Subject: Spankin' Jack
From: awright@falcon.cc.ukans.edu
(Ashley Wright)
Date: 6 Sep 94 22:40:18 CDT
Hello to all you great folks on a.s.s.! I've been lurking for some time and was facilitated by Gaetana in a de-lurk attemp a few weeks ago. She posted a short story of mine, The Old Swimming Hole, and for that I'm very grateful. My deepest most heartfelt thanks also go out to my dear friend Ben Red, the wonderful Dave in SCal, and the distinguished gentleman, Adrian, along with everyone elso who's helped me and given me so much incouragement.
***Note and a brief disclaimer***
The following story concerns semi-consentual spanking between 2 sorority sisters and a famous Hollywood playboy. This is a work of fiction. The events herein protrayed have no basis in reality, outside my own twisted imagination. For all you legal types, I read in Cosmo that the Hollywood playboy who inspired this story is very fond of old-fashioned OTK discipline, especially regarding adorable brats like me. So please don't sue me, okay?? I'm just a college student!!
Jody, Heather and I had been planning to spend spring break in LA ever since the beginning of school. We had all been best friends since our freshman year at Cornbelt U and for the last 2 semesters, had shared a room in our sorority house. We had grown from friends to best friends to being practically sisters, and in fact I was closer to the two girls seated in front of me in Heather's red Jeep than I was to my own sister and brother.
Physically, Heather was the most striking, tall and in excellent shape, with a model's physique. Her blonde hair was cut short in a stylish bob that suited her no-nonsense personality. For although Heather looked like the epitomy of the blonde bimbo, she was a genetics major and had a sky-high IQ. She and I also shared the same coarse sense of humor, much to the annoyance of Jody, who was the only friend I had of whom my parents fully approved.
Jody was always dressed to the nines, and looked great in whatever she threw on. She had a curvy, voluptuous figure that drove men wild, and that was her personal curse-- she wanted to be a twiggy, Kate-moss like waif. Jody's auburn hair hung all the way to her waist, and she had the most gorgeous skin I'd ever seen. Jody was more than just a pretty girl, though, she was opinionated, outspoken and determined to change the world. Her aspiration was to someday be a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist-- and she had a chance, too. She'd spent the summer at a special journalism conference in Washington, and of the three of us, she was easily the most grown-up.
Grown-up was hardly the adjective that anyone would pick to describe me. I had no other ambition in life but to draw comics and write children's books- both fields to which everyone who knew me agreed I was ideally suited. at 5'3 and 100 pounds, I fulfilled Jody's dream of the thin waiflike little girl, and in fact got a lot of my clothes exceedingly cheap by shopping in the girls' departments. I was the sorority house clown and unofficial mascot, everybody's surrogate baby sister. However, I also was not a dimwit, and even my professors were amazed by the consistancy with which I skipped class and still managed to maintain a 3.6 gpa. Heather and I got along perfectly, and most enjoyed annoying Jody, which wasn't hard to do. She had little patience for our childish antics, but even when she was most exhasperated with us, we could always make her laugh.
Even best friends can get short tempered with one another, and driving halfway across the country in shifts to save money on gas had worn everyone's patience thin. Our little quirks and habits, which were endurable and perhaps even mildly amusing at home, were downright maddening in the cramped Jeep 4x4. Jody insisted on listening to country music, cranked up all the way, when it was her turn to drive. She insisted if she didn't have Waylen Jennings and Clint Black blaring from the speakers, she would lapse into a narcoleptic coma and run us off the road, killing us all.
Heather, a vegitarian, insisted on telling us in excruciating detail how hotdogs were made and the calorie/fat ratio of everything we ate. When she was at the wheel, she refused to stop at Burger King on the grounds they destroyed the rainforests, and would only let us get vegetarian sandwiches from Subway.
As for myself, I got 2 speeding tickets and cursed every driver that cut me off, tailgated or drove 35 in the slow lane w/their blinker on. When I controlled the wheel, the rest of the car was dead silent as I drove, accelerator to the floor, steering wheel gripped so tight as to turn my knuckles white, and face set in a maniacal grimace with eyes locked on the road. As a passenger, I and whoever else wasn't driving played the alphabet game, licence-plate bingo, gossiped and begged the driver to stop at every Stuckey's and roadside Exotic Animal Museum and Reptile Emporium (with garishly painted hand-letter signs screaming, "Freaks! We got freaks!) that we passed.
Of course, the inevitable arguement occured. Heather and I had never really disagreed, both being basically laid-back and relaxed types. Jody and I got along wonderfully for the most part, but we had had some memorable outburts in the past. Jody had, on more than one occaision, threatened to spank me and had in fact given me a sharp swat or two on the rear several times. Jody knew that I had a "thing" about spanking, but she was a firm believer in disciplinary spanking herself, and in her opinion she didn't care how old I was or how much I enjoyed it-- when I acted like a brat and she was within swatting rang, she was apt to land a stinging smack on my spankable bottom.
The most memorable occaision in which this occurred had been the semester before when I put off ordering checks from my bank for 2 months and then had to put cash in with our phone bill payment. Three days later, our phone service was mysteriously disconnected, and Jody called AT&T (on a neighbors' phone, obviously) to find out why. Of course, I already had a pretty good idea why, and evesdropped from down the hall, my stomach knotting in nervous anticipation when I heard Jody's outraged shout of, "But that's impossible... we sent in the money-- but how could.. Wait a second-- ASHLEY!!!"
"I have to go to the library," I said quickly and almost made it down the stairs, but Jody's firm hand grasped me by the collar before I'd descended three steps.
"Ashley, did you ever get your checks from the bank?" Jody asked, steering me upstairs and back to our room. Heather and a couple other girls watched from the sidelines, trying to appear uninterested.
"Uh, no..."
"Well, when you sent in the phone bill, you used a money order, didn't you?" Jody asked, giving me the benefit of the doubt, but I had to shake my head, provoking another outraged exclaimation of, "You sent CASH?! Ashley, the phone company says they never got the envelope, and we're gonna have to pay it again!!! And we have to pay a $40 fee to hook up our phone again!!!"
"Those bastards," I said, "that's why monopolies are a terrible thing--"
"Don't you even try to be funny; I am angry!" shouted Jody, giving a dirty look to Heather who was trying vainly not to giggle.
Jody opened the door to our room and shoved me in it in front of her, shutting it in Heather's face before she could come in. She stood between me and the door, a figure of femininety exemplified, a Rubinesque dream in DKNY jeans. Without a word, Jody took my shoulders and steered me to one of our straight-backed chairs and sat me down in it none too gently. Then she went into a long lecture over not just the irresponsibility with the phone bill, but also my many unpaid traffic tickets, my habit of staying out all night and skipping classes, my notoriously poor attendance at sorority functions... she really read me the riot act!!
"Honest, Jody, don't be mad at me," I begged, "you're one of my best friends. I'd do anything to make it up to you. Fine me, make me do extra study hours, make me work in the kitchen-- you're an officer, make up a punishment."
Jody bit her lip a minute in thought, then sat on her own chair and told me to go get her hairbrush off of her dresser. The brush was wooden and old-fashioned, unlike the cheap plastic brushes that Walmart and other discount stores sell. It was a Crabbtree and Evelyn brush, beautifully stained and made of some pretty wood, like rosewood. I hardly dared to hope what Jody had in mind, and held my breath as I slowly brought the brush to her. In an instant, one of my dearest friends had be held firmly over her knee and was administering an old-fashioned spanking to my denim-clad seat. My Levi's protected me from any real injury, and Jody didn't swat hard enough to bruise or hurt me badly, but after 5 or 6 good swats with the brush, my bottom was beginning to smart.
After 10 swats, I was kicking and wriggling in earnest, and promising to be good. Jody ignored my pleas however, and the giggles of our friends in the hallway who were listening at the door and no doubt had realized what was transpiring.
"Okay, Jody! I get the point!! I'm so sorry!! Thank you!! I'll be much better from now on-- now will you stop, pleeease??" I gasped. Jody gave me 5 more swats, and they were real stingers, then allowed me to get up, rub my burning bottom (which felt like I'd sat on a cast-iron stove-- Jody spanked for real, not like the gentle love-pats my boyfriend dished out), and dry my eyes. Then she hugged me and replaced the hairbrush, and everything was okay again. Of course, we did both get a lot of teasing from our friends, but it didn't faze us; most people knew I was "interested" in the occaisional spanking, and anyway, I was always being threatened with having my bottom warmed, even by the most casual accquaintances!! Heather's opinion was that I had a "spankable aura". Well, I never really put any stock in that descision, but we'd only been in LA three days before I was forced to reevaluate my opinions on the subject.
After that one incident over the phone bill, Jody never gave me a real spanking again, although she wouldn't hesitate to give me a sharp swat on the seat if I was getting on her nerves. Heather, on the other hand, never did spank me, but often teased me about being Cornbelt U's number one reader of a.s.s., and always made joking comments like, "I think somebody's in for a trip to the woodshed". None of this disturbed me- as Jody complained, I was absolutely incorrigable. Anyway, Jody had decided on a new tactic, and now she didn't scold or nag me when I skipped class or sorority functions, but would instead call my boyfriend and tell him my transgressions. The first time I came over to his apartment in response to his call, I was surprised when he met me at the door with a grim look.
"What's the matter," I asked, concerned, "I thought you said Mike had to work this afternoon." I figured he was upset because his roommate had the day off and we couldn't make out. Doug's muscular hand took a firm grip on my shoulder and he led me to the sagging, dilapidated couch without a word. He sat down, and the sprung frame of the battered sofa groaned from even his slight weight. When we made out too energetically on the couch, I was always nervous lest we shake the frame apart and wind up on the floor. Doug tugged on my wrist until I sat down beside him, and I asked again, "Doug, what's the matter? Mike's car wasn't outside, so what's wrong?" I was starting to get impatient.
"I got a call from Jody today when you were at class-- you did go to class, didn't you?" he demanded. I nodded, meekly. He knew I had a terrible habit of skipping if I felt like the lecture was going to be boring that day, and more than once had come across me reading in the Union bookstore when I was supposed to be taking notes over "Women's Roles in Post-Empire Roman Society" or some such nonsense. Doug looked slightly less stern, but continued, "Jody had a lot to tell me about what you've been up to this last week. Missing chapter, coming in at 3 a.m., putting off your homework, forgetting to pay your housebill... but she had a suggestion that might help you remember how a good student acts."
He patted his knee meaningfully, and I swallowed hard.
"Right here in the livingroom?" I asked, half-reluctant. "But what if Mike comes home early? Or what if Dave or Mandy come by?"
Doug took my wrist firmly and guided me over his lap.
"I'm sure they won't be surprised to see you getting a spanking, as naughty as you are. Dave's told me several times he thought you needed your cute little bottom warmed, anyway. --Now, no more arguements, and get those jeans off!"
I was already starting to breathe a little bit heavily as I fumbled with the button-fly of my Levi's. By the time I had positioned myself back over Doug's lap, bottom raised defenseless for the spanking, my long wavy hair brushing the tobacco-colored carpet, my heart was racing. It had only been a few months since Doug had come to understand my special passion for spanking, but now that he knew how excited it made me, he was glad for any excuse to warm my bottom. I teased him about being as addicted to spanking as I was, to which he'd reply, "No, i'm addicted to making you happy." At that, I'd always point out the big bulge in his pants whenever he was spanking me, and he had to admit, "Well it is true that you have the perfect bottom to be spanked..."
I reflected on this over his knee, my bottom involuntarily clenching as I awaited the first stinging swat. Doug gave me the first 5 or so hard swats on my underpants, then suddenly and expertly flipped them inside out and continued the spanking on my bare butt. I gasped involuntarily at the rush of cool air against my rapidly warming bottom. As always, the spanking hurt while he was actually smacking my rosy ass, but I knew from experience that as soon as my chastisement was over I would be throbbing and pulsating with ecstatic warmth. Periodically, Doug would rake his short fingernails across my hyper-sensitized backside before reknewing his assault. Sometimes during a spanking, I fought and struggled, forcing him to pin me down with one strong arm, or jumped up and ran around the house, making him chase and catch me, but today I just lay across his knees and panted.
The last 5 swats were always rapidfire and very sharp, and I moaned involuntarily as he delivered them. By this time, we were both worked up to a state of post-adolescent disciplinary frenzy, and he scooped me up off his lap and carried me awkwardly to his bedroom, closing the door with one sneaker-clad foot while I fumbled with his belt and the zipper of his jeans.
That was almost a year ago, and now Jody, Heather and I were crossing southern CA, still brooding over a heated arguement we'd had in Arizona. While we were stopped at a Stuckey's for gas, pecan logs and a quick piss, Jody and I got into a fight over the "cuss jar".
In an attempt to keep Heather and I from embarrassing her with our foul mouths while we were in LA, Jody had come up with the idea of a fixed fine for using socially un-acceptable language. I knew she was still steaming over Heather's shrieking "FUCK!" because she had just accidently skewered a particularly rare specimen of bee through the compound eye at the same time Jody was on the phone with her grandmother.
The cuss-jar policy was that whoever swore for any reason would be fined a fixed amount that would go into the jar and be used to pay for some outing in LA that we would agree on later. Since Heather and I both used the "f" word as noun, adjective and verb, it held the highest price of all the fines-- a dollar. This may seem cheap, but realize that I could rack up a seven dollar fine in just two sentances.
Heather's and my dispute over the cuss-jar rested upon the fact that we felt the policy should be revoked while driving in LA. We'd learned out lesson and, having contributed some $100 to the jar, we said that once off the free-way we would be good as gold, but it was unnatural to expect us to contend with the maniacal drivers of the city without using expletives.
"They won't respect us," Heather pointed out, "they'll think we're an easy target. You don't want to wind up getting raped by some crazed Hell's Angels or members of the O.T.O, do you?"
"Or some coked-up Hollywood producer," I pointed out. Jody was adamant, and then she added that she thought we should make flipping people off a fineable offense also. At this, the debate turned into an arguement, and harsh words were said.
Heather said Jody was being prissy and Victorian, that swearing was a perfectly natural and acceptable form of expression and she should grow up and live in the '90's. I said that if I had to pay a fine for swearing, she had to pay a fine for playing her Clint Black tape, and that I was paying all fines from this point onward by personal check. From then on, things turned into a real catfight, with Jody contending that Heather was just into vegetarianism "to get attention" and I was such a brat to overcompensate for my physical immaturity. When I retaliated by telling her my real opinion of her silver-screen goddess, Winona Ryder, and threw her Reality Bites cassette out the window in the Painted Desert, it put a damper on the whole trip, with each of us silently steaming for the next 2 hours.
Of course, we couldn't stay mad forever. When we finally reached LA and Heather was at the wheel, clenching her teeth as she tried not to get us killed on the freeway, I promised to buy Jody a new tape.
"I'll even buy you the cd," I offered, and she turned in the seat and actually smiled.
"I'm sorry I said you were physically underdeveloped," she apologized, "and I guess I am kind of prissy and Victorian. Listen, when we go to the game tomorrow night, I'll buy you a sno-kone."
"Cherry?" I asked, smiling tentatively, glad to have made up.
"Not since I was a senior in highschool, how 'bout you?" Heather cracked, and even Jody laughed. She really is a great girl. She's the only other girl I know who likes the X-men, and we both agree the tv show sucks. Suddenly "Tempted by the Fruit of Another" came on the stereo, and taking it as an omen, Jody cranked it up and we all sang along. For the moment, all was well.
"Got my toothbrush, my suitcase; a flannel for my face," we sang in harmony. My eyes were closed, so when the Jeep suddenly swerved sharply to the right and I heard the terrible squeal of brakes and the sickening crunch of metal on metal, I was completely taken by surprise.
"You asshole!!" Jody yelled, and Heather was crying. I figured this wasn't the time to rib Jody about the cuss-jar policy, but leaped out of the car to survey the damage and chew out the moron who we'd hit.
"I'm gonna lose my licence, I'll go to jail," Heather sobbed.
"It's okay, look, you can have back all the money you put in the jar... don't worry, Heather, I've got my credit cards..."
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you dumb fuck, you almost killed us!! My dad's a lawyer and I'm gonna sue your--" I was shouting as I ran to the teal '94 model Lexxus and banged on the smoked glass of the driver's side window. Through the haze of the glass, I could just make out the driver, struggling to extricate himself from the airbag. I stood my ground on the hot asphalt, drawing myself up to my full height, a fierce 63 inches, hands on hips and chin thrust out beligerantly.
The driver's side door opened, and the equally irate owner of the Lexxus lunged out of the car, face flushed with anger and hair standing on end-- he looked like a bear in an Armani suit.
"What in the hell do you think you were doing back there?!" demanded the bear, stabbing a thick finger in front of my nose, "You kids damn well better have insurance--"
The minute I'd gotten a glimpse of his face getting out of the car, my chest tightened and my heart quickened. Now that he was standing in front of me-- in person and irate, I was so excited I thought I was going to pee my pants.
Jack's voice sounded far away, the birdlike cries of my friends and dull roar of the traffic seemed to be ebbing and pulsing, a tide of sound. The last thing I heard before the world turned fizzy and black was the voice of my Hollywood hero, no longer irate but surprised and concerned. In echos as sonorous and hollow as if he were in a steel drum, Mr.Nicholson demanded of me, "Hey, are you okay? Look at me--"
Then the sky rolled up and I was inside it.
When I opened my eyes, I was half-sitting, propped up in the back seat of the Jeep. Jody was shaking my shoulder and gently smacking my face and Heather was flicking me with droplets of her bottled Mendota Springs water. I sat up straight and pushed Jody's hands away while squinting and grimacing from Heather's makeshift shower.
"Stop it," I snapped, annoyed, "that stuff tastes like shit and besides, it's overpriced."
"What's the matter with her?" the familiar adenoidal rasp of my idol made me sit bolt upright. I suddenly remembered this was not my imagination, we had just rear-ended Jack Nicholson on the freeway! Standing just 18 inches away from me, clad in an eye-poppingly gaudy mauve suit and with his sparse hair flying all over his ursine head, Jack regarded me with concern.
"Is she diabetic-- or on medication?" my idol continued. I was dumbstruck by a combination of hero-worship and lust, and could not reply.
"No," Jody replied shortly, forgetting her manners in this time of crisis, "she does this all the time. Ashley! Dammit, I told you to eat something so you wouldn't go falling all over the place--"
"Maybe you should call an ambulance," suggested Jack. Heather, still shaken from slamming the silver screen god's Lexxus, tried to reassure him, explaining, "No, really, she'll be okay. She just never eats anything."
"That's a lie!" I protested, "I ate a whole bunch of Wheat Thins, and anyway--"
"With all the energy you expend getting us into trouble, Ashley, you need more than a handful of Wheat Thins!" snapped Jody, "Anyway, what are you afraid of, you might gain a pound, Miss Waif?"
"Shut up!!" yelled Heather, in tears again, "I'm gonna lose my license and go to jail and all you two can do is bitch at each other!"
"You aren't gonna go to jail," I reasoned with her, "Mr.Nicholson isn't gonna call the cops on us, are you? Oh, please don't call the cops. I mean, your car isn't really even hurt. A little paint, knock those dents out with a hammer; it'll be good as new. My uncle's a mechanic; I know about this stuff," I was talking a mail a minute in my hypoglycemia-induced haze. Jack just stared at me, incredulous.
"Actually," he said to Heather, having apparently decided she was the rational one, "I think we'd better go somewhere and talk this over. Now, don't go crying again--" he hastily added, seeing Heather's pretty little mouth begin to pucker, "you seem like very nice girls, I know it was an accident and I think we could settle all this out of court."
"Geez, Mr.Nicholson," I exclaimed, delighted, "you're really a great guy! I dunno why they made such a big deal of you hitting that guy's car with your golf club when he cut you off. Thanks for not hitting our car, by the way..." Jack just kept shaking his head in amazement, a funny little expression on his face. Jody dug me sharply in the ribs with her elbow.
"Look, girls," Jack whipped out a pen and business card, "where are you staying? Give me your number, and later today I'll get back to you. I'm late for an, uh, appointment right now, but we'll get this all settled so that everyone's happy, I promise."
Heather gave him the number of her aunt's house where we would be staying, and he wrote it down along with our names and the Jeep's tag number and stuck it in his breast pocket. Before he left, he reminded us earnestly, "Now I have your names and your tag number, girls, so just try to stay out of trouble... and you'd better be home when I call you."
Heather wiped her eyes a final time before handing him back his handkerchief. "Oh, we will, sir. We will-- and thank you so much for not calling the police. You don't know how greatful I am."
"I'm sure I don't," Jack said dryly, then shot a worried look at me. I was still kind of woozy and arguing with Jody who wouldn't let me ask for Jack's autograph. "Listen, you'd better get her something to eat. And try to look out for her 'til she sobers up-- a little girl like that could get in a lot of trouble in this city."
"She can get into trouble in any city," Jody replied wearily.
"You're really a great guy, Jack," I said enthusiastically, "and I'd just like to say I've seen all your movies, even the ones that sucked like "Chinatown". And I don't see what's the big deal about Dennis Hopper, I thought you were a lot better than him in Easy Rider--" I shook Jack's hand enthusiastically and he just kept that funny little smile on his face. "Thanks for not being an asshole about all this, I mean, you're rich; you can afford it, right?" At this moment, Jody grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me into the Jeep and slammed the door. Jack talked earnestly to Heather for a few more minutes, and then he lumbered back to his slightly worse for wear Lexxus, shaking his head.
Heather had no sooner gotten back in the Jeep and started it up again than Jody started yelling at us, particularly me. I was still on the fuzzy edges of lucidity, and took offense to being read the riot act.
"What're you yelling at me for?! I'm not the one who ran into him!" I protested.
"No, but you sure weren't helping things, running your mouth and talking like a damn lunatic!!" Jody snapped, "He probably thought you were on drugs and you're lucky we didn't all get thrown in jail!!!"
"If it wasn't for me he would have called the cops!" I retorted, "When I passed out he got scared that he'd be charged with some sort of assault and that's why he's gonna cut us a deal! Besides, I reacted perfectly normally for someone who's recovering from the shock of an accident plus running into a personal idol."
"Listen, do we have to keep rehashing whose fault it is?" Heather begged. "I'm nervous enough as it is thinking about meeting with him to talk about the damages-- can't we just drop it?"
"If you found out you'd just rear-ended that bald guy who plays Capt.Jean-Luc Piccard on tv, I bet you wouldn't be all calm and collected," I continued to bait Jody. She turned, red-faced with annoyance, and smacked my thigh. I yelped indignantly and rubbed the stinging spot as she threatened, "If I were you, little Miss Motormouth, I would just sit there and shut up because I have an overwhelming urge to take you over my knee and spank the living daylights out of you!!"
I stuck out my tongue at her as Heather pulled into a McDonald's drive-through. McDonold's hamburgers used American beef, so environmentalist Heather would actually patronize them although she would only eat the salad. I had crossed the line with Jody in taunting her, and she demanded, "Heather, park the car! Maybe a good spanking right here in the parking lot will convince Ashley to shape up and act her age!"
"You better not or you'll get arrested for assault," I warned, and Heather yelled at both of us, "Will you two stop fighting! Now decide what you want to eat and let's all just try to be civil and get along like mature adults!!"
"Yeah, like the way we did before we became best friends," I added, giving Jody a playful poke in the shoulder. She tightened her lips, but agreed that we were all tired, overstressed and hungry and that she was probably overreacting a little.
Heather, levelheaded science major that she was, had saved the day once again. Somehow, nothing seemed quite as desparate after a thoroughly unhealthy meal of grease-laden french fries and carcinogenic fried, soy-enhanced meat. To placate Jody, I ate my entire #2 extra-value meal and even had a "milk" shake, and by the time we got to Heather's aunt Susan's, we were all considerably mellow-er than we had been before the soothing fest of sugar, grease and fat. Heather's aunt had given us the key to her place while she spent the week in Mexico with her fiancee, and we had the house to ourselves. Our only responsibilities were to feed the cats and keep the place cleaned up. We carted our stuff inside and chose our rooms for the week, then hurriedly unpacked and threw on our swimming suits for an afternoon of soaking away our frustrations in Aunt Susan's pool.
Heather and Jody were already splashing around and laughing by the time I got myself into my suit and ran outside, so I was greeted by the spectacle of my two best friends' shapely, scantily clad forms stretched langoriously on two foam-rubber mats. It was no wonder the two of them never lacked a date for our functions, with Jody's sleek thighs and hourglass figure, and Heather's trim, toned limbs and athlete's build. I didn't need to begrudge my roommates' physiques as I had my own fair share of admirers, although I never could really see why men were so enthralled by my slight, small-boned and childlike proportions. A lot of girls in our house were constantly bemoaning their bodies as too fat, too thin, their busts were too small, their hips were too wide, etc., but I was comfortable and happy with my own measurements. I thought it was ironically funny that my friends complained their
Jody and I played with Kyle in the cool waters of the pool, but my attention was divided between our game of keep away and trying to make out Heather's one-sided phone conversation. She seemed very agitated and was arguing strenously, her covergirl features distorted by anxiety.
"But, couldn't we-- I understand, but-- I just... no, I don't want that... really, I... yes. I see. No, that might work... okay, but I'll have to talk it over with my friends. Could you call back in five minutes?"
The ball konked me on the head, drawing my attention away from Heather's one-sided conversation and back to the game. Kyle and I raced to be the first to retrieve it-- he'd already announced that if he won, he got to spank me again. Heather put the portable phone back on the patio table and came over to the poolside, a concerned look on her face. Jody called time out, and she and I swam over to the side to hear what Heather had to say. From the look on her face, the news wasn't good, and I wondered if Jack had decided to report the accident after all. If he had, I decided, Val Kilmer was becoming my new screen idol.
"What did he say?" Jody demanded, "Is he gonna settle out of court? How much does he want?"
"It isn't money he wants," Heather said, her smooth brow furrowed with concern.
"Then what does he want?" I demanded impatiently, "Listen, if we have to pay for his car to be fixed, I can use my Texaco discount since my uncle has that garage--"
"He wants a different kind of compensation," Heather said, "let's just say, he wants to be personally compensated."
"Oh, how disgusting!" Jody exclaimed, catching on, "I mean, he must be at least fifty!!"
"He wants us to sleep with him?" I exclaimed, astounded. Sure, I'd heard the rumors about his sexual proclivities, but still...
"Not all of us," Heather said, "and I don't know if he necessarily intends sex to be part of the deal-- it's really kind of strange.."
Jody was never one to beat around the bush, and was getting tired of Heather's hedging. "Well, what does he want, then? I say, offer him $150 and if he doesn't like it, say fuck you!"
"Jody," I exclaimed, surprised at her bluntness.
"Well, that's more than enough to fix that tiny little dent the Jeep made in his fender. He's a disgusting pervert if you want my opinion, and no matter what he says you know he wants sex. Did you see the way he was checking us out after we hit him???"
"But that'll take half of our cash for this trip," I pointed out.
"Listen," said Heather, "before you start yelling, Jody, would you just listen to what he wants?" she glared at our impetuous friend. "He said he was going to the ball game tonight and his "escort" for the evening couldn't make it. He says he'll forget the whole thing if one of us goes with him to dinner and the game."
"What is this, some kind of cheesy Hollywood romance movie?" Jody demanded, "We rear-end his car, and he wants to take us out on a date?? The man is obviously desparate for sex."
My heart rate quickened. Although I knew how insane the idea was, and that Doug would probably kill me, the prospect of an evening with Jack Nicholson was exciting! Heather continued, "Well, that's what he said, and it'd all be in public so we wouldn't have to worry about him doing anything funny-- he even said if we wanted him to, he'd keep his driver along as a chaperone."
"I don't think he'd do anything," I said, and got glared at by Jody. "I think it'd be kinda fun, and hey, it's free food and a night with a real live movie star."
"What does he want with us?" Jody snapped, "He's always got blonde starlets hanging all over him, so why is he so infatuated with three girls just off the farm? I'll tell you why; 'cause he thinks he can get us in bed!!"
Heather put her hand over Jody's mouth and said, "Listen, Jody, you aren't the one he wants to take anyway. He wanted to take Ashley."
I gave an involuntary squeak of delight, and Jody demanded indignantly, "And what's wrong with me, I'd like to know! He probably thinks I'm too pushy. Well, I'll tell him a thing or to, Mr.Philandering, I have a different girlfriend every week--"
"I wanna go," I said recklessly. A night with Jack! Who cared about the consequences? This would be an adventure.
"Jody, don't take it personally, he said Ashley made a real impression on him and he liked her 'spunk'." Heather was patiently explaining, and Jody was interrupting angrily, "I've got spunk, too! How come Ashley always has all the fun? And what're we supposed to do all night?"
"Watch the game on tv and look for me in the stands," I goaded her, "You'll know me 'cause I'll be the one sitting right down front with Jack Nicholson."
"You are such a brat!" Jody exclaimed in exasperation. "Well, you and Mister Spankin' Jack will make quite the pair! At least you'll have something in common!!"
Heather snickered at this. "You shouldn't take it personally, Jody, he probably just caught a good "spanking vibe" off Ashley and knew he'd found a kindred soul."
I shot her a sideways look. It seemed like my kink had been the sole topic of conversation/entertainment for the entire trip. "Listen," I said sarcastically, "I'm not the only pervert in this trio-- you're the one who gets horny for vampires..."
Heather replied, unpreturbed, "Vampires are sexy! I just about creamed my jeans watching Bram Stoker's Dracula."
"PUH-LEASE!" Jody exclaimed, "MUST we air our personal sex fetishes right now when there are more important matters to discuss, such as the possibility of Ashley getting date raped by a man famous for his promiscuity???"
"It isn't a date, it's more of a pay-off," Heather began, but Jody was only more outraged, shouting, "Oh, so now she's a whore! Well, that's even better."
"We're just going to a basketball game!" I protested, "Just 'cause you don't like his movies doesn't mean he's a bad person--"
"He's repulsive," Jody spat in disgust, "he looks like some kind of reptile and his head is too big!! Ugh, and all that hair on his knuckles..."
"So what?" I retorted, "That's no worse than you and your obsession with bald men: Capt.Piccard, Yul Brenner, Professor X--"
"Professor X is a comic book character!" Jody yelled at me in her frustration, and Heather interrupted us, shouting, "Girls! Ashley is old enough to make her own discision and if she wants to go, then I say ley her go!! After all, it's keeping us out of jail!!!"
"Yeah, and I can take care of myself," I added, "and we don't have any money to pay him off, so I think we better take what we can get!"
The phone rang insistantly before Jody could reply. I ran to get it.
"Hello?" The voice on the line was familiar, gruff and threatening and utterly sexy.
"This is Jack. Have you girls made your decision?"
"Yeah, we'll do it. I'll go with you, Mr.Nicholson."
"Call me Jack. This is the little blonde one, right? What's your name again?"
I was glowing and answered, "Ashley-- Jack. Are you gonna pick me up or should I meet you at the game?"
Jack talked for several minutes, giving explicit instructions. He would pick me up, we would go to his house for dinner and then to the game. I was to wear a nice, light comfortable outfit, preferably one that was mid-thigh length or shorter. I said I had a sundress that fit those descriptions, and he said to have it on when he came to pick me up. I was to look as innocent and clean cut as I had when he first saw me-- no makeup, jewelery, etc. Of course, this was great with me as I was a bit of a tomboy and hated to hassle with makeup anyway. Before he hung up, Jack said meaningfully, "You realize, Ashley, that I was really pissed when you gave me that smart attitude after you girls rear-ended me."
"You mean before I passed out?" I exclaimed, "I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't know who you were-- I mean, I was all upset and--"
"Well, just keep in mind that you were very sassy to me this morning and that you and your friends were driving really irresponsibly."
"Oh, I know, Jack," I exclaimed earnestly, "and I'm really sorry. You don't know how sorry I am--"
"Well I guess I'll find out later, hmmm?" the gravelly voice held a hint of a threat and I began to wonder just what was in store for me.
After all the arrangements were finally worked out, I hung up the phone and went in to prepare myself, accompanied by Heather and a still-skeptical Jody. After a quick shower and shave, I dressed in the green and yellow cotton sundress I had described to Jack. I sat before Aunt Susan's vanity while Heather braided green ribbons into my hair.
"These really look great with your eyes," Heather said enthusiastically, and this shade of green makes your complexion look terrific."
"You look like an eighth grader," Jody complained. "I guess no one could accuse you of dressing for a rape, anyway-- unless he's some kind of pedo."
"Jody!" I exclaimed indignantly, pulling up my over-the-knee socks. "Give me a little credit here. I can take care of myself, and besides this is all strictly business."
Finally I was ready and looked myself over in the mirror. It was true that I did look young, but it didn't look like he was robbing the cradle. Besides, the current craze was this schoolgirl fashion trend, so I wouldn't stand out in the crowd. I adjusted one sock within my black mary-janes, and twirled around to let my pleated skirt flare. I could hardly stand still, I was so excited. It seemed like he would never show up, but at last the sound of a horn honking from the street brought me running downstairs to the door.
"He's here!" I shouted, "Don't wait up!! Boy, wait'll I tell the girls back home about this!!"
"Have fun," yelled Heather, "be careful!! Try to stay out of trouble!"
"How does she do it?" Jody griped. "Use your head for a change!"
I ran down the stone walkway to the car. Instead of the Lexxus, Jack was in a mauve Infinity, also brand new. He smiled and waved at the girls as they stood in the doorway watching me get into the car of the Hollywood legend.
Once we pulled away from the curb and started to drive, I chattered away a mile a minute. This was such a dream come true-- me, sitting right next to my idol of movie villany!
"You like the bad guys, huh?" Jack asked, amused.
"Oh, yeah!" I replied, enthusiastically, "The good guys are okay, but they're usually so boring. It seems like the villans have more personality."
"You've got quite a little personality yourself, young lady. How old did you say you were? Twenty? I wouldn't have guessed more than seventeen."
So the conversation went, me yakking it up and Jack interjecting his wry observations and amused comments. He seemed particularly taken by my bubbly, effervescent personality, and when I told him of my various mischievous adventures, he was most appreciative.
"I thought you were a spunky little thing," he said, "I mean, when I looked out the window, practically suffocating in my damn air-bag, and see you standing there with your hands on your little hips and your chin stuck out, I have to admit, I was itching to take you over my knee, but I'd probably have gotten arrested."
My heart skipped a beat as Jack gave me a sidelong glance to see how I took this information. As we pulled into the driveway of his gorgeously landscaped and designed house, I swallowed hard and managed to reply, "Well, I already got one spanking this afternoon, when we got home."
Jack had a great poker face, if he was surprised he didn't show it. He pulled the car into the garage and parked, then led me into the house.
"Welcome to Chez Jack," he quipped, "I'll show you around a bit more after dinner, but first I'd like you to follow me, Ashley."
He started off down the wood-paneled hall at a leisurely pace and I followed obediently, not knowing where we were headed or what awaited me.
We went up a small flight of stairs and came to a single room, outfitted with movie posters and memorbilia, bookshelves a large desk and straight backed chair.
"This is my study, Ashley, where I take care of my business matters. And we have a business matter to attend to this evening, do we not?"
His arms were crossed over his chest, he seemed very tall as he gazed sternly at me. The hint of a smile played in the corner of his chisled mouth, and then it was gone.
"Yes-- yes sir." I replied, my palms soaking wet, half hoping, half dreading what was to come.
Jack slowly removed his suit jacket and opened the closet door to hang it neatly inside. As he spoke, he rolled his shirtsleeves up to the elbows. "I got a feeling about you when I saw you this morning, Ashley. I'm sure you've heard things about my... eccentric... ideas about naughty young girls such as yourself-- with that damn biography all over the bookstores I can't even walk down the fuckin' street without twenty people wanting me to sign it..." he shot me a look and I responded immeadiately, "Yes, sir."
"What have you heard, Ashley?" I swallowed hard. Jack was standing before me, very serious, massive, authoritative. I began to feel like I had been called into the principal's office for passing notes.
"I-I heard that you like to spank girls. Mr.Nicholson."
"And you're quite a naughty little girl, aren't you? I didn't quite hear you, Ashley." He prompted, when I didn't reply. Blushing madly, I nodded.
"What kind of a girl are you again," he asked in his inimitable way, teasing.
"A naughty one, Jack." I gulped, my heart was racing.
"And what do I like to do to naughty little girls such as yourself? You tell me, you read the biography." his face was stern, but his eyes twinkled.
"You-- you like to spank them, Jack." Jack grinned his wolfish trademark grin then, and turned back to the closet. When he reemerged, he had in one hand a hairbrush and in the other a ping-pong paddle, both well-worn. I took a step backwards, involuntarily. Jack positioned the chair in the center of the study and sat on it, then motioned with the brush for me to come to him.
"Don't be scared, Ashley," he teased, "you like the bad guys, remember?" He put the ping-pong paddle on the floor beside his chair, then caught my wrist in a firm hold and pulled me abruptly over his sizeable lap. My toes barely brushed the ground and I felt his massive left paw rest firmly on the small of my back. A suddenly draft of cool air alerted me to the fact that my short skirt had just gotten shorter-- had in fact been lifted up over my back to expose my green cotton undies. I blushed involuntarily, although I knew it was silly. This guy'd seen Angelica Houston's bare backside, along with countless others-- it was nothing new to him! Still, I felt tremendously vulnerable and like a six year old girl as I anxiously awaited the first stinging swat.
"When I give a spanking," Jack explained, "I like to start with just my hand, to warm my target up. Since reckless driving is pretty severe, we'll start with a pretty severe hand spanking, say, 25 swats. Sound good to you, Ashley?"
"Yeah, I guess," I managed to murmer from my inverted position.
"I'm glad, 'cause if if it didn't sound good, you'd be shit out of luck," Jack replied gleefully, and the first of the stinging 25 smacks landed square in the middle of my backside. I yelped in surprise and pain, and each of the 24 swats that followed were just as hard. They didn't call him Spankin' Jack for nothing!! My butt was glowing by the time the hand spanking was done, but Jack had just gotten started.
"Now that you're nice and warmed up, I think you're ready for an old-fashioned paddling. I'm going to lay it on pretty harshly, but that's only fair because you spoke to me pretty harshly when you first hit my car. And I'll warn you just this once, that if you try to get off my lap or interfere with your paddling, we'll start right back over with 25 more swats from my hand. Now, brace yourself, Ashley!"
I was grateful in that he let me have the slight protection of my underpants while he blistered my rosy backside with the stinging ping-pong paddle. He spanked my butt in a pattern which ensured the entire area was well covered, and although I tried to be stoic, by the last few swats,I was wiggling and stifling muffled sobs. My bottom seemed to be radiating its own heat from within. Once again, Jack stopped, and put down the paddle. "Now, to finish up, Ashley, I think you need to remember to be more careful in the future. You're getting to be old enough that you should be more responsible, not careless and childish. So I think finishing up with 10 hard swats with the hairbrush on your adorable little bare ass will drive that message home."
"But we just met!" I protested, "Can't we leave the pants on? Please, I don't know about a strange man seeing my bare butt--"
"Ashley," Jack reasoned, "if you've been watching me on television and movies all your life, we aren't strangers!! We're old friends. Just think of me as an uncle-- Uncle Jack. --And take those hands away from your backside, young lady or I'll spank you all over again with your panties down the whole time!"
I was beginning to see why he played these sadistic guys so realisticly on the screen. But I took my hands away and just whimpered in humiliation when he hooked the waistband of my underpants and expertly yanked them down to reveal my smarting and bright red backside. My tears of humiliation quickly turned to tears of pain as he brought the hairbrush down 10 stinging times to crack against my already punished butt. I was bawling like a baby when the last swat was administered and I was finally allowed to get up and rub my crimson bottom in a vain attempt to put out the smoldering agony.
"That was great, kid," Jack said, all smiles as he put away his toys and rolled down his sleeves. "You took it real well, especially if you'd already had one spanking today. I'd like to hear about it over dinner, if you don't mind."
I smiled through my tears, wiping my eyes with one hand.
"Sure, Jack, that was the hardest spanking I've ever had, and I was so pissed at you when you turned down my pants, I was damned if i was gonna cry!!"
"Well I think this more than makes up for the fender," Jack smiled warmly, showing his teeth as he handed me a handkerchief. "We'll go wherever you want for dinner-- you may want to eat standing up, though-- and then we'll go to the game. Do you like the Lakers? If you want some autographs, now's your chance..."
We left the study and headed back into the main body of the house, chatting and laughing as if we'd been friends for years, me and the most notorious bad boy of Hollywood. It's amazing how a spanking will bring folks together.
I know I said you'd have to wait for part IV, but then I was on a roll so I went ahead and wrote it anyway. Comments, criticisms, etc are most welcome. We aspiring young writers love to hear about our work!
Jackrabbit